


Stones Like Thunder (Wheels Like a Metronome)

by Kimi_Ichisaigosuki



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Blood, Gen, iffy knowledge of head injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimi_Ichisaigosuki/pseuds/Kimi_Ichisaigosuki
Summary: Errantry gone wrong, and an ambiguous ally





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, cousins! This is my first official foray into YW fic, so I hope you like it. This story doesn’t take place in any established canon event, it's just a tiny snapshot that fell into my head while I was listening to “Retrograde” by James Blake, and it grew from there. This could be construed as Kit/Lone Power if you squint, but for all intents and purposes it’s gen.
> 
> Awesome fanart by SweetFishsticks can be found here: http://bit.ly/2cTBcs8

Kit sat in the train car, leaning his head back against the rough wooden planks of the wall and ignoring the person sitting across from him. Flashes of sunlight broke through the crimson rocks that thrust up on either side of the tracks and flickered through the chinks between the grey-green planks, casting light over him and illuminating the blood crusted through his hair and along his face, staining and stiffening the left shoulder and chest of his shirt. He’d taken one hell of a hit, and he could still feel the occasional warm trickle from his scalp carving new paths in the rust-red dirt and rock dust that covered him. The dried blood blended in distressingly well.

His companion glanced over, silhouetted against the light fractured and stuttering through the wooden wall. “…Let me take care of that.” Kit shook his head, grimacing at the new burst of pain through his skull. “You won’t be able to help anyone like this.” Kit glared at the man sitting across from him, earning a huff of mixed amusement and exasperation. “Do you think they’re alright? That we were able to get out of that deathtrap was pure luck.” Sunlight illuminated bright red hair somewhat muted by sandstone dust, giving it a golden edge.

“They got out. Nita always has a plan, and if she doesn’t, she’s great at improvisation.” They had to have gotten out. They’d been following the train tracks through a blind canyon, but that rockslide, the lack of envoy to meet them at the rendezvous…it reeked of an ambush. And after everything they’d done. Kit gritted his teeth as a burst of sunlight caught him in the eyes, temporarily blinding him as his companion stood up and made their way over to sit beside him. “They had to get out…”

“I can’t sense them, but I’m too drained to sense much of anything right now, if that’s any comfort.” Kit shook his head again, blinking to clear the sunspots from his vision. He tensed as he felt cool fingers on his forehead. “You’re burning up. If that rock hit you as hard as I think it did, you’ll have a hard time mentally reaching your partner until you’ve healed. Concussions tend to be bad for that kind of link.” He didn’t mention that he was the reason Kit was safe, that he’d scooped up the dazed and injured wizard and pitched him into an open boxcar of the cargo-passenger train that came thundering down between the steep stones that formed the canyon. He didn’t remind Kit that he’d staunched the worst of bleeding with his jacket once he’d pulled himself to relative safety in the empty boxcar.

Silence reigned as the gentle touch slipped from his forehead. Blood dripped down Kit’s cheek, splattered on the worn wooden floor with rust red dirt ground into the grain of the wood as the train jostled over an uneven joining in the tracks. The blood showed up crimson, didn’t quite sink into the grain of the timber like it would’ve on Earth.

The man sighed and stood up wearily. “Come on. We don’t want to be found here.” Kit didn’t move, too dizzy and exhausted to trust his limbs to obey him. His companion pulled him to his feet, then picked him up when he staggered as the floor of the train trembled and swayed beneath him.

Kit closed his eyes and thought about what had happened as the redheaded man carried him through a few more cargo cars and settled him in an empty economy passenger car. The last he’d seen, Nita and Ronan and their local guide had dodged out of the way of an enormous red sandstone boulder and out of sight. He could see the whorls and imperfections in the stone as clearly as if it was before him, the way it had been hollowed and shaped by the unforgiving winds that swept across this world. He hadn’t heard any screams of pain or terror, but the thundering of the stones could have easily drowned that out. He thought about how much easier this would have been if Ponch was still around, about what he could have done differently to get all five of the group onto the train. His eyes flickered open and he gradually processed his surroundings. Basic seating, broad windows covered in scratches or graffiti or fractured from the many rockslides that these trains barreled through… If it wasn’t for the alien materials and the writing on the signs, he could’ve been on a train back in New York. He thought of home as he drifted in a haze of pain and regret.

“What’s your plan?”

It took Kit a moment to drag his mind back to the present. He found himself leaning against his companion, slumping in fatigue brought on by blood loss, adrenaline crash, and the weariness of trekking over an inhospitable desert planet covered almost entirely in huge boulders of red sandstone. He was so tired, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the contact. “Find Nita and the others. Make sure they’re alive, heal them if they’re hurt. Fix this world…” He let his head loll onto the man’s shoulder while the train passed underground, the telltale shimmer of deadly acid flats in distance flicking in and then out of sight. “I wish Mamvish was here.”

Slender fingers carded through his blood-tangled hair, making him hiss in pain as the wound on his scalp burned in protest. “Get some rest, Christopher.” Cool energy flowed over the split in his skin, knitting the tissue together in a messy scar. “You’ll need it.”

“I don’t trust you.” Kit felt his eyes drooping shut. Unbidden, his next thought fell from his lips. “You’re just my most convenient resource right now.”

The Lone One stared out through the window as the train came back up out of the tunnel, watching the red stone landscape sweep past as the train track clicked beneath the wheels. The sun was starting to set, painting everything outside in a dim glow as the lights in the passenger car flicked on. “I know.” He swept His fingers over the eyes of the mortal beside him, encouraging sleep and the healing that came with it as He brushed some dried blood off of Kit’s cheek. “I know…” He let His head fall back against the wall as Kit finally succumbed to exhaustion. The Lone One felt the young man’s breathing slow, deepen, and even out. “I can only hope that one day you find it in yourself to trust me.” He glanced around to make sure they were alone, though He had little cause to worry about suspicion. Bloody, broken, bruised people sleeping on the trains that crossed the uninhabited stone deserts weren’t uncommon on this world, and a subtle spell to make prying eyes slide away wouldn’t take too much energy if it was needed…

The Lone Power closed His eyes and focused on regathering His strength. Healing others was still difficult, the preservation of life going against everything He’d worked for for eons, and He’d done more than just close a scalp wound; He’d restored some of the lost blood and healed the mild brain trauma. For all that wizards did not trust Him, He had to try to accomplish what He came here for. He had to at least find Christopher’s companions, to prove that He was capable of good, of kindness. 

At least, He would try. So much of His personal redemption hinged on the forgiveness of the wizards who had seen fit to write Him a second chance in the _Book of Night with Moon_. Even the One’s forgiveness paled in comparison to the freedom of choice that such a simple gesture had allowed Him.

The Power and the mortal sat in silence, watching the world go by through the cracked window of a train car carrying them away from the site of their injury, from where they were separated from the rest of the group trying to save this dying planet.

He would try.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome.


End file.
